Excelsior
by seinooo.kcvii
Summary: Excelsior. In more ways than one. A ReTi oneshot.


I know I have something on my list but I just have to upload this. It's so starry lol. *gets headshot by Speedy* …stars, yea. Haha. I'm working on it.

Sadfhksaskdslakf D: Enjoy. _If_ you are able to. My head's screwed up liek heill.

Here you go. A sweet, dark choco—

**Excelsior**.

* * *

He had always watched her, watched her, watched her—_stalked_, even, from afar. She was always wearing her smile for everyone that would even make the Lifestream's rays ashen. She was that radiant, more than the Planet itself. She had all her hardships to nurture her to the strong woman she was now. Pain was not uncommon to her and she would strive to overcome it even with the slightest contact.

"I love you, babe. Now and forever."

An unknown, unknown, almost wistful secret. For him and the sleeping Edge. He had his own reasons.

His whisper shattered the numb midnight air. No need to pry any more.

No one would even realize it. No one would know, yes. He would resume acting in his own carefree way. He was Reno, after all. Emotions would have to be hidden, hidden, hidden, or _buried_ _deep_ within. To achieve forged perfection, to reach beyond expectations as a Turk. They were Excelsior—striving towards excellence. He had pledged himself so he couldn't turn back now could he?

The ninja girl had always pleased him in his sexual frustrations. Elena? Money, money and more money. (Sometimes he wondered why Tseng gave her more). Oh, yeah. Tifa. Tifa Lockhart gave him feelings. Ones he never thought he would be tempted to care. He found out a long time ago, though.

To him, she was the epitome of all the unexpected… Want, need, like, infatuate, ache, lust, love and much more. A kingdom of unexpected treasures.

_Tifa Lockhart. You are evil, you know that?_

She had always caught a glimpse of him in the deepest, dark corner. He was always found glancing at her way and when she started to say something, he silenced her with his usual order. He was a mere human, with needs and wants. She was sure that he was used to see life and death connect and disconnect moments after in front of his own two eyes. His eyes were marred with experience, and his laidback attitude, choices of words were not really _veiled_ to her. She had figured him out since a long time ago.

They were different in many ways.

This night, he casually sat near the counter as he always had, always been, always will. Always. He asked his usual, whatever that was, and ordered the would-be tasteless red wine last. Or kirsch. Tonight was kirsch.

Kirsch, 'ey? That was helping. _Riiight_. That only helped amplify the Tifa-ness. He was the last that night. Morning. Or whatever.

"Are you done?"

His eyes trailed her every grace, her assets, her everything. Nothing could ever make him more insatiable…than her.

She was too intoxicating.

Impulse took over. He pulled her toward him from across the counter, engaging her lips to his heart's content. Those luscious lips that taunt him every single night. She could not help but to mewl adorably against him, trying to break free. That just made him more vicious, overpowering her in his strong grip. Almost, in that chaos, she had given in to his overwhelming force. They gasped for air finally.

Never would they have thought that the action would make them feel linked together, like small pieces of impossibly broken puzzle pieces, becoming perfectly whole.

They were together, in the same bar, breathing the same air.

She shoved him away, confusion rising within her amidst her anger.

"I'm _done_ for now." He smirked, memorizing all of her. He had drawn yet another expression from her he thought that had vanished all the time.

Why was he doing this? If she had asked him that, he would answer:

"Only the greatest yearn and deserve the greatest to him, babe."

She never did, of course. She warned him not to touch her anymore, threatening him that he would lose his manhood if he did. He grinned as he waved one hand in the air, signaling a (fake) defeat.

_That's my girl_, he thought.

He would only watch her. From far, near, with whatever means possible. That is, if he wasn't assigned to a distant place.

This tale, of his and hers, would remain a secret—a significant, significant, significant and heavy secret…for they would not even open their mouths to even spill a misty droplet of it, no matter how tempting it was.

Besides, it's more…yummier that way. They softly brush their burning lips with a finger or two, though, wondering why, why, why she/he tasted and _felt_ like marshmallows.

"Yummy."

Hard to disagree on that.


End file.
